Mixtape
by OtakuLibra
Summary: In which I put my iPod on shuffle, give myself a 300-word limit, and see what kind of Spork-y drabble-ness results. IT'S DONE. LAST CHAPTER UP NOW.
1. All the Times I Never Let You Down

This chapter is based on the song "Kryptonite" by 3 Doors Down.

* * *

Jim Kirk was supposed to be Superman. He was the mad genius, the space cowboy, the hero of Starfleet.

Bullshit.

Jim Kirk isn't Superman. He's still that stupid, drunk, promiscuous asshole he was back in Iowa. It's just that there was one time he stopped being a motherfucker for two seconds and made a friend who was actually smart enough to get him on the Enterprise. And when he got there, there was Spock.

Because Spock isn't exactly Superman either, and sure, he's got issues too, but he's a hell of a lot closer than Jim. And it sure _seems_ like the bastard's got x-ray vision sometimes, with the way he can see _right through_ Jim in ways even McCoy can't.

It's hard for Jim sometimes, not to think of Spock as his own personal Superman, even if that puts him in the position of Lois Lane. It's bad enough the Vulcan _looks_ like him, what with the blue uniform and the black hair and _he's even an alien._ That, and Spock has saved his life more times than he'd like to admit. And Jim trusts him even though he's never really trusted anyone in his life. And also, he loves him, though he's not going to figure that out till later.

And when he does, it all clicks into place, and Jim is content with being Superman. Not completely, but enough. Like how Spock isn't completely human, but enough. Enough that Jim starts to be able to know exactly what Spock is thinking or feeling, all in subtle expression changes, those gorgeous, expressive eyes.

Jim never thought he was the type for monogamy. But they grow old together all the same. Mostly because Spock knows how to keep Jim grounded, realize that he _isn't _Superman, when he inevitably forgets.

* * *

And so the madness begins.

It's like my iPod _knew_ or something. Curse my 300-word limit. And yes, I am addicted to character study. What of it?


	2. You're Caught on the Other Side

**"M. Shepherd" -- Thursday**

* * *

He hates funerals.

He can't even count anymore the number of them he's attended, the number of eulogies he's given, the number of coffins he's seen lowered six feet deep or shot off into space. He doesn't really care to. Jim Kirk knows he's getting old. But he's not so old that all the people he knows should be ghosts. He's not that goddamned old. Not yet.

But maybe he's old enough, at the very least, that he shouldn't care if they see him cry. He's known all these people for so many years now; he shouldn't have to stop himself from crying, not like he did in the old days, back when he was still trying to gain their respect, most of them. Except for Bones, maybe, but they'd been friends forever. Bones had already seen him at his worst.

Except for Spock.

_Godfuckingdammit_, he hates funerals.

The coffin is smooth and black, and it reminds Jim of Spock's hair. The way it was never less than _immaculate_, and the way Jim would tease him about it sometimes. And the way he would run his fingers through that beautiful black hair when they kissed, just to make it less perfect. Because Jim may have been a hero and all, but he was still an insecure bastard, and there were always those times he felt he didn't deserve Spock.

And he doesn't. Because it was Spock who was the hero this time, and there wasn't a damned thing Jim, who was _supposed_ to be the hero, could do to save him. And that's killing him.

_So much for not believing in no-win scenarios, huh, Mr. Spock?_

He doesn't cry. He never cries at funerals. His voice only catches on one word. One word.

"Human."

He'll cry later, this he knows.

* * *

**Honestly, I'm not sure this even fits the song. The lyrics, at least. But I was listening to it, and this kind of... happened. I suppose this one is more TOS, as it was based on the end of WOK. But that's vague, and you could reallly put this in AOS if you wanted to. Also, this one has a plot? Sort of? **


	3. Starless Eyes for Heaven's Sake

**"This is the Best Day Ever"--My Chemical Romance**

* * *

Spock has been sitting in the same place, in the same position, for approximately 6 hours, 27 minutes, and—And the numbers are not coming to him as they usually do. It unnerves him for a moment, because the Vulcan brain is capable of compartmentalization, but then, Jim has always had his undivided attention.

This is not the first time this has happened, and Spock is hardly what one would call naïve. He knows it will not be the last. And yet, every time, Spock finds himself in sickbay, calculating terrifying probabilities in his head until the sound of Jim's heart on the monitor becomes white noise.

Spock knew the exact number of times he'd been here, sitting next to Jim's bed, trying (failing) to keep his emotions in check. McCoy asks him this sometimes, between Jim's trips to sickbay, and Spock knows it is rhetorical, that the doctor is simply indulging his illogical need to complain. And yet, he answers. Every time.

He tries to remember now, but again, the numbers fail him; there is always the fear, the ever-increasing chance that this time Jim's brilliant stupidity will finally catch up with him, he will die for all the times he should have. He suspects that he cannot remember the number because no matter how many times this happens it always feels like the first.

When Jim opens his eyes 3-point-something hours later, that feels like the first time too. And Spock is no longer worried about the numbers. He does not smile, does not show emotion the human way. But he can not help grasping Jim's hand, tight. Jim smiles, pressing a kiss to Spock's fingers.

Spock knows this will happen again. But until then, he is simply content to have his t'hy'la, alive and holding his hand.


	4. Don't Need to be Saved

**"Hero"--Regina Spektor**

* * *

"Go away, goddammit."

No answer again, just that motherfucking _knocking. _

"I said go away," Jim growled over his Jack Daniels, which was technically Bones's. Maybe that was him, Jim thought. Which only reaffirmed that there was no way in hell he was opening the door.

"You are perfectly audible, Captain. However, I must remind you that I am capable of breaking down the door if necessary."

Spock. Well then.

Jim found himself opening the door, leaning unsteadily against the frame.

"It's Jim, for Chrissake," he slurred, blocking Spock's way inside. Right eyebrow, lifted just slightly.

"Jim."

Spock only made it a few steps inside before Jim was collapsing against him, hands grasping at the back of Spock's shirt.

Spock should have sat him down, called McCoy. He should have made Jim let him go and sober up. He should have asked Jim what was going on. But he did not.

"Jim," he murmured into blonde hair, and Jim held tighter, breathing ragged over Spock's neck.

Spock steered Jim toward the bed, pulling gently until Jim was tucked against his side.

Spock didn't know how to tell Jim what he was feeling, so he simply brushed the psi-points on Jim's face, attempting to convey through touch his love, his affection, his understanding. He held back the questions. Patience.

"I'm the goddamn hero here, Spock. What the hell're you doin' savin' me again?"

"As your First Officer, I—" Jim cut him off with a look, Spock's name a plea on his lips.

"I love you."

That was all. As simple and beautiful as Jim's smile.


	5. But I've Been Shot Down, Beat Out

**"Jimmy Dean"--Hunter Valentine**

* * *

It's been a great night, which for Jim isn't that far from a really fucking bad night, but whatever. And it's not just that he's bored, like when he went bar-hopping back in Iowa.

He's only out tonight because it's his birthday and this is the only way he's been able to get through it since he was thirteen and bribed a couple of high school kids to give him a six pack. He must've picked that habit up from his mother.

He remembers his mom and a bottle of whiskey on his fifth birthday. She'd thought he and Sam were asleep, and out came the booze and the Kleenex.

Jim wishes she were here, sort of. Wouldn't make things any better, but still.

But it's still a great night, at least by his standards, because he's drunk, _really_ drunk. Which is totally according to plan; the idea is to be as numb as possible now and forget everything by the next morning.

And he drinks some more, because his mom isn't here and Sam hasn't spoken to him in months, and he's grateful to Pike and all, but it's his birthday, his dad is dead, and there's not a whole lot less he can settle for, really. And it's one in the morning, he's smashed, and he's fucking miserable.

The bar goes quiet. Jim looks up.

And there's Spock, eyes automatically locked on Jim. He looks pretty fucking funny (it's _Spock,_ after all. In a _bar_), sliding into the barstool next to him.

Spock lets him finish his beer, and then he lets Spock take him home. And if he was in a laughing mood he would think the sight of Spock driving his brand-new bike with Jim holding onto him like his life depended on it was hilarious.

But also, it's kind of really fucking sweet. So when they get home, Jim kisses him, even though he knows he smells horribly of alcohol, because that's the only way he can think of to say thank you.

And for once, Spock doesn't even pretend to mind.

* * *

**So this one started out pretty angsty, but the thing is, I think it's really sweet. The subtext stuff. Like how Spock knows _exactly _where Jim is, but he let's him deal with everything his own way. And then he takes him home. Oh, I am such a sucker for fluff. It's not too obvious, is it?**

**And my Kirk is way more of an alcoholic than I planned... What's up with that, iPod?**


	6. What a Beautiful Feeling

**"Crimson and Clover" --Joan Jett**

* * *

Kirk had never been a masochist, really, until he met Spock. Because the Kobayashi Maru hearing was a bit like being sucker punched and then fucked senseless. Or maybe that was the other way around? Whatever.

Because Spock was _hot_. Hot in a way that should have been illegal because really? He couldn't help imaging someone _that _hot and _that_ repressed totally losing it.

And then he had to pull himself together, because Spock was _smart._ And Kirk had to clench his fist to keep from making a smartass comment because 1) Spock would think he was an idiot and 2) flirting with the guy accusing you of cheating right in front of God, the board, and everybody was probably not a good idea.

And then it was all over, and he was on academic probation, but he didn't care much because _fuck_. Not only was Spock hot and smarter than hell, he had the most amazing eyes Kirk had ever seen.

And he usually wasn't the type to get all romantic like that, which freaked him out a bit. But _Jesus._ The rest of Spock was so damned Vulcan, but his eyes gave Kirk the delicious knowledge that he was getting under Spock's skin. Which was just fucking _awesome_.

So really, what else could Kirk do besides go running after him? Because he'd been at the Academy for three years and he'd never been challenged _at all_ till now. And was it really that nerdy that this was so hot? Okay, maybe, but Kirk didn't really care because he was grabbing Spock's arm and the Vulcan's eyes looked like he felt.

And that was it, game on.

The first time they had sex was in a janitor's closet about five minutes later. And holy hell, Spock is fucking _fantastic_.

* * *

**So yeah. **

**Thank you, Joan Jett. **


	7. Cause I Just Want You to Know Me

"Runs in the Family"--Amanda Palmer

* * *

The first time Jim comes home for leave, he goes to see Pike. Because he still feels a bit guilty, like he's stolen Pike's girlfriend or something. Pike's like him, neither of them the kind of guy who'd enjoy the admiralty.

"Now I've been through your reports, Kirk. _And _your medical records—love your CMO, by the way." Damn Bones. "So I want to know why _I'm _the one in the wheelchair."

Jim laughs, but starts feeling even guiltier. "Sorry about that, sir." But Pike's smiling, so maybe it's okay.

"I swear, it must run in the family or something." And Pike doesn't specify what, but Jim can guess. "Now quit hanging around with me and enjoy your leave. Commander Spock is waiting for you."

Panic clenches in Jim's stomach, which is stupid, because Pike wasn't even _implying_ anything. "Relax, Kirk. You're not the first captain to break non-fraternization. I did."

Jim exhales, getting the feeling Pike is laughing at him. "Get out of here, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Jim thought he'd seen it all.

But nothing beats Spock, sitting there next to him on the shuttle on their way to Iowa. Jim has the distinct impression that Spock is the proverbial prom date waiting to meet the parents. It's kind of hilarious.

"It's fine, Spock," he says, surreptitiously interlacing their fingers in a kiss. Spock doesn't say anything; he _is _nervous.

They show up in Iowa, and Winona meets them, and Sam and Aurelan are there with the kids, who adore Jim and are fascinated by Spock. Sam tries to do the intimidate-the-boyfriend thing (at which he fails miserably), and Winona seems genuinely happy for once. And no one's silent, and no one's fighting, and no one drinks. It's great.

The kids hug Jim, and Jim tries to stop them from trying it with Spock, but Spock doesn't seem to mind. So Jim decides to push his luck a bit, wrapping an arm around Spock's shoulders as they sit on the sofa with Winona. He half-expects Spock to push him away, but he doesn't. And Jim thinks he might have to visit his family more often, with results like these.

And sure, crazy, fucked up genius may just run in the family after all, but _this_. This is the kind of family Jim can get used to.

* * *

**I do believe this proves that one can become addicted to fluff. I know I have a problem, I just choose to do nothing about it. **

**Also, Sam and Aurelan's kids hugging Spock? I may or may not have written the entire second part for that one bit.**


	8. She Lookin' Pretty, Tonight

**"Van City"--Hunter Valentine**

**Yes, another Hunter Valentine. My iPod seems to like them. Not that I'm complaining. **

**Companion to the other Hunter Valentine fic, "Jimmy Dean," from Spock's POV. **

* * *

Spock is not anxious. He is _not_. This is the thirty-ninth time he has reminded himself of this fact. Thirty-nine should be superfluous. But it is not. It has been four-point-seven minutes since he last told himself this, and in the interim emotion has built in his stomach until it threatens to spill. And then he must remind himself again. He is _not_ anxious.

But it is 0100 and the apartment is empty and Jim is gone. And… Oh very well then, Spock is anxious.

Today is Jim's birthday. Spock knows what this means; he is not blind. He knows he must allow Jim to cope with his pain, that he must not intervene. He has worked with Jim for five years; they have been together for much of that time. He _knows_ Jim.

And yes, Spock knows where Jim is. It is like knowing where the apartment is, where their quarters are aboard the _Enterprise_. It is not difficult. But it is painful, in a way Spock does not completely understand.

He wants to be a comfort to Jim. He is unused to being shut out of any aspect of Jim's life, even one that has left such a deep wound as this. Under normal circumstances, Jim's very human emotional tendencies are endearing, but tonight they only serve to worry Spock further.

He knows, beyond all else, that it is not healthy. After Vulcan was destroyed, he poured all of his hate and confusion on Jim. This is no different. And Spock knows because he has _felt_ it. Jim allowed his emotion then, and, when it dissolved, Jim was there. This is no different.

Spock is acutely aware of the stares the moment he enters the bar. But he ignores them, because he has already located Jim at the far end of the bar, blue eyes locked with his own.

Spock sits next to Jim, who is bent over a beer, which is clearly not his first. Jim gives him a look like he's sixteen being picked up by his mother. Spock almost-smiles at that. Left eyebrow.

Jim almost asks, but Spock simply waves his hand. Jim nods vaguely, going back to the bottle.

When Jim finishes his drink, he slips out of the barstool, weak, boneless. Spock catches him automatically, a reflex from years of practice saving his captain. Jim straightens, grinning sheepishly at Spock. He insists he can walk just fine, but Spock keeps a hand at the small of Jim's back all the same.

Spock hates the bike, hates it almost as much as Dr. McCoy does. But Jim is in no condition to drive, and Spock dreads trying to get him in a cab. The bike is the only logical choice.

It is _not_ logical that Spock should so enjoy this, Jim's head resting between his shoulder blades, arms wrapped tight around him, over his heart. He does, however. He is not sorry for this.

And then they are home, and Spock is attempting to engage the kickstand while disentangling the arms of a _very _inebriated Jim Kirk from around his middle. He has limited success. Yet, he finds himself caring little as Jim smiles, kissing his gratitude, pressing Spock back against the bike.

* * *

**The 300 word limit may or may not have gone out the window by this point. My apologies; I'm weak. **


	9. With Your Cause and Affection on my Mind

**"Sentimental Tune"--Tegan and Sara**

**300 words? What? Rules were made to be broken, you know. Even if I made them. **

* * *

Spock cannot honestly say he is surprised when Jim disappears. They are on shore leave, and Jim needs the rest, but a quiet, still Jim Kirk is exceedingly rare. It is less than 24 hours into leave and Jim is going stir-crazy. Spock had been the one to suggest they go out, so technically he brought this on himself. He should know better by now.

There is no use reprimanding himself, however. When Jim gets like this, he is a force of nature. There is no stopping him, and Spock knows better than to try. So he waits. Jim will return for him soon enough. He always does.

"Hey!" Spock turns in response, though he does not really have to.

"Jim," he says simply, without inflection. Spock does not have to give such clues with him.

Jim grins, holding up two slips of paper. Spock raises and inquisitive eyebrow, which makes Jim laugh.

"Tickets," he says, taking Spock's arm. His fingers brush Spock's skin at the junction of palm and wrist, tracing abstract designs. He is careful to avoid Spock's fingers, as he always (well, usually) is when they are in public.

"Tickets, Jim?" Eyebrow again.

Still grinning, Jim says, "Old movie theater. Can't believe there are even any left. But I found one." His blue eyes are shining happily.

"You do seem to have a tendency to discover what does not wish to be found, Jim." Spock fixes dark eyes on Jim, lips quirked upward just slightly.

"You love it. Don't lie."

"Vulcans do not—" Jim waves his free hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, giving Spock a look. His index finger shoots up to graze Spock's fingertip, dragging it down over his palm and back to the wrist.

"Jim." There is a warning tone in Spock's voice. Jim gives Spock an innocent look. So Spock bends down slightly to whisper in Jim's ear. "I would… greatly appreciate if you would desist, Captain."

Jim may have shivered slightly. But to his credit, he does not break his step. "Stop what, Mr. Spock?" he asks softly. Curse those beautiful lips. Spock tenses.

"If you do not cease immediately, I shall have no choice but to kiss you."

Jim grins. "And what's so wrong with that?"

"Jim." Warning again. Jim winks, touching his fingertips to Spock's again, but softer this time, chaste. Spock's ears tinge slightly green, but he relaxes.

They walk in silence for awhile after that, Spock simply enjoying Jim's company, the soothing coolness of his shoulder and hands. Then Jim breaks out into a smile, pointing. "Spock, look!"

The theater is a classic, all neon flashing lights and old music. A bored-looking teenage boy takes their tickets, and Jim drags Spock inside, eyes bright and excited. He takes Spock's hand unthinkingly, pulling Spock toward the back of the theater. It is dark, but Spock can make out figures in the nearly-empty theater, scattered in ones and twos. Jim sits them down in the back row, just left of center.

The film is old, likely 21st century, judging from the way it must be projected onto the screen. Fascinating.

"Spock." Jim's voice sounds disapproving. But when Spock looks over at him, he is smiling slightly. "Spock. Stop taking apart the projector with your mind. We're off duty, Science Officer. Just watch the movie."

Spock gives a short nod and turns back to the screen. He supposes the film is meant to evoke an emotional reaction (especially as Jim had long ago taken his hand), but Spock fails to see the romance.

He tells Jim this as they exit the theater, and Jim laughs. "How did I, of all people, end up with the most unromantic being in the universe?" he asks melodramatically.

"Negative," Spock responds. "I merely found the film unrealistic and quite, as you say, unromantic."

Jim grins wickedly, leaning in to press his lips against Spock's ear. "Well then, in the interest of cultural sharing, why don't you show me what you consider romantic?"

"Is that an order, Captain?"

"You remember what you were saying earlier about not doing things like that? You're driving me crazy, Spock. Better watch it before I indulge my exhibitionism."

Spock shoots a glance at Jim. "Relax, Spock, I'm not gonna jump you in the middle of the street." Then he adds, "But I swear to God, just you wait till we get back to the hotel…"

Left eyebrow. Jim grins. The sun is setting, fingers of reddish light filtering through the skyscraper windows to the street.

Spock is not normally inclined to be sentimental, true. But he cannot ignore the way the fading light settles on blonde hair, the happy, unrestrained glittering in blue eyes. He tries to clamp down on these sensations, but Jim seems to sense them anyway.

"Why, Mr. Spock, you romantic," he says breathlessly, grasping Spock's hand. "I believe there's hope for you yet."

* * *

**The last quote? Shamelessly stolen from the first episode of TOS. Because I love it. **

**And... Yeah, I don't even know on this one. It just kind of... Happened. Hope it's decent. Drop me a review and let me know. It feeds my motivation/self esteem. **


	10. That is Unless I'm Getting Found

**"Ne Me Quitte Pas"--Regina Spektor**

* * *

Jim doesn't hate Riverside. You'd think he would, what with the shitty childhood and the abuse and his mother never being home. But he doesn't hate Riverside, not really. Because those nights when Frank was in a wicked bad mood or he missed Sam or his mom or something, Riverside was all he had.

But he doesn't _need _Riverside anymore. He's a captain now, and he's got his crew, his ship, his _Spock_. He doesn't need anything more than that. And it's funny that he only hates Riverside after he leaves.

But he drags Spock out there their first shore leave on Earth, because Spock's avoiding Sarek. Okay, he doesn't _say_ he's avoiding Sarek, but he _is._ And Jim doesn't know why, but it doesn't really matter, because Spock will only deny it anyway and Jim is okay with being an enabler. He never claimed to be a role model.

And Riverside. Riverside is exactly the same as it was when Jim left. He isn't all that surprised, but. It's like those old movies he used to watch with his mom. They've been exactly the same for centuries; Darth Vader is always Luke's father, no matter how many times you watch it. And that's Riverside. Like everyone's living out a script.

And Jim _hates _that.

It never used to bother him. He'd always dreamed of going into space. He's just _known_ it. There was never a question in his mind that it would happen. He was never trapped in Riverside, not like all the other kids he knew. He always had a way out.

But now? Now, he hates it. Because no matter how far away he runs (and it's damned far, too, we're talking uncharted star systems here), Jim always keeps coming back.

He tells himself it's for his mother. Winona's retired, and she's living in Riverside because Frank is dead and she just kind of doesn't care anymore. Jim doesn't bitch at her about it, though, because he's a good kid, and what's the point? Where does she have to go?

So yeah, it's not for Winona. And she knows it. She's always had a talent for seeing through Jim's bullshit. Probably why she and Bones get along so well.

And it's got nothing to do with Spock. Not that Spock _hates_ Riverside (granted, Spock would say he doesn't "hate" anything, whatever). But still, it's obvious the only reason he doesn't bitch about it is because, God knows why, he loves Jim. And he's kind of a saint for putting up with him, Jim isn't ashamed to admit. That's just the way Spock is, and Jim loves him for it.

It's all a script, and Jim knows he's part of it. Because even when you get away from Riverside (fucking _uncharted star systems, dammit_) you don't ever really escape it.


	11. And I'm Left Here with the Blame

**"Why Part 2"--Collective Soul**

**So yeah. I'm sorry. **

* * *

They've been dancing around each other for months. So long that the whole ridiculous thing almost starts making _sense_. Which it obviously shouldn't, because how many times does he have to say it? It's fucking _ridiculous_.

And he's sure Spock knows it. Okay, so he's got the whole Vulcan thing going on (and he wasn't even sure Vulcans _could_ flirt, before he met Spock. He knows better now), but that's not exactly an excuse anymore. Not now that Jim knowshim. Spock has to know what's going on. He _has _to.

So there's only one question in Jim's mind. Why the _fuck_ is Spock leaving?

It's almost like in those really shitty holovids, where the man/woman/being says, "I thought we had something special" (or something equally nauseating). And Jim _refuses_ to be that damned pathetic. Even though—Bones's words, not his—he's "so in love with the damned hobgoblin it's a wonder your brain can properly function." Or something along those lines.

Jim _really_ hates it when Bones is right. (Which is most of the time. But whatever.)

And the really sad thing is, Jim didn't even consider that this might happen. And all right, so he's not exactly known for thinking things through sometimes. But he's _captain of a fucking starship_. So, you know—novel thought and all—he's actually not an idiot. (He can almost _hear_ Uhura and Bones's retorts to that, even as he's thinking it. Which is pretty damned sad, really.)

But in retrospect? Fine, he'll give in. Maybe he should have laid off a little. But first of all, this is James Tiberius Kirk we're talking about. It's not even like he tries, most of the time. It just… happens. Naturally. He's a flirt. And he's not ashamed to admit that, because if he's being honest, that's what gave him his rep. Not that he hasn't been around the block and all, it's just that his reputation has been _way_ overblown over the years, and why change it?

Of course, he knows this is more than good-natured Jim Kirk flirting. That's the kind of flirting he does with Uhura, even though it's mostly just a kind of private joke with them these days, now that she's gotten used to it and finds it more endearing than worth a punch to the face. And that's what it had been with Spock in the beginning. But he's not going to lie, there was always something more intense underneath it, waiting. And if the only way Jim could keep from jumping his First Officer after a couple months was to let off some extra energy by flirting with him? Well, at least he _wasn't_ jumping his First Officer, right?

Not that Jim hasn't seriously considered it. Especially now. Because Spock's leaving, deciding to go back to the Vulcan colony after all, and it's not like Jim's got anything to lose. _Because he's already losing everyth—_

_Goddammit. _Those little voices in the back of his head are _really_ not helping matters. At all.

Of course, his conscious self isn't helping much either, if tackling Spock in a random 'lift is the best idea it can come up with (not that it isn't a great fantasy, because it is, but in reality probably wouldn't have the desired effect).

Uhura interrupts with a ping at the door of his quarters. (Is it wrong that he's hoping it's Spock?) She doesn't say anything when she comes in. She doesn't have to. And as it sinks in, slowly, she puts her hand on his arm, and her eyes are liquid. And he lets her cry, because he can't. Because it's Uhura, his _friend_, one of the most empathetic people he's ever met, and it's okay. Jim knows that she gets it, knows that she's crying for him, knows that she hopes comforting her will distract him enough that he might not notice when Scotty calls to tell him Spock's just beamed out.

It fails, but he tries not to let her know that.

* * *

**This was going to be Mirrorverse. Nice, easy, evil, non-angsty Mirrorverse. Well, yeah. That didn't happen. **


	12. Always, I Know

**"All the Small Things"--Blink-182**

**So I felt _really_ bad about the last chapter. And my iPod is sort of wonderful, because it gave me _this_ little pop-punk jem. And oh my goddess, the fluff that ensued is unbelievable. I really hope you all appreciate it. And you don't think it's totally crap. Cause that would suck. So, because you're such amazing people, you'll review so that I don't worry, right? *puppy face***

* * *

Jim kind of hates Uhura sometimes for the evil glee she seems to get from their utter failure to communicate. And all right, so she's the Communications Officer, and she's a _frighteningly_ good xenolinguist who's saved their collective ass with her talented tongue more times than Jim's comfortable admitting, but _still_. She can be a real bitch sometimes. (He means that with all possible affection, honestly.)

And her sense of humor? Fucked up.

Because when it comes down to it, there are only two people on the _Enterprise_ Jim can talk to about his relationship problems. One of them is Bones, but he only puts up with it because he's Jim's best friend, and even then he bitches to high hell about it. And the other is Uhura. Because she and Jim are—shockingly—really pretty good friends, and she gets Spock, mostly.

The problem with that is that Uhura knows things about them that she probably shouldn't, considering. And she takes great pleasure in teasing Jim about it. Often.

And the really sad thing is, she's right.

It's not a bad thing, most of the time. It's just that Jim was never really good with vocalizing his feelings, and Spock… Well, Spock and feelings just don't mesh all that well, even after they've been bonded for this long. But they understand each other, trust each other. And that's enough. They don't have to talk about it. It's just there.

And then, there are the cold wars.

They don't _fight_. Not really. They don't yell; they don't throw things; nothing. They just leave it, until eventually they're forced to talk about it. Usually, it's Uhura doing the forcing, after a couple days of frigid shifts on the bridge. Because the kids always know when mom and dad are fighting, and Uhura is kind of the older sister of pretty much everyone on the _Enterprise_, so she's the one to deal with it.

Hence, the teasing. Which is… you know, warranted.

But that's only half of it. And the rest of it, the part they don't let the kids see, is this.

Jim and Spock don't _need_ to talk. Sure, there's the bond thing, and the telepathy, and that's _great_, but they don't actually need it that much. They can tell by simple expressions, tones of voice, minute gestures, exactly what the other is thinking or feeling. It's a different kind of communication. It's them, and it _works_.

Like how Jim doesn't have to say "I love you" all that much. He does, mostly after sex, but he doesn't _have_ to.

Like how Jim teases Spock about being a workaholic when he stumbles into their quarters after a particularly long and brutal double-shift on the bridge. Like how he knows the exact moment to stop with the banter and pull back the covers to let Spock in. Like how they just hold each other, not saying anything, as Jim rubs small circles into the pressure point in Spock's palm.

Like how Jim never really considered himself a romantic, but he leaves roses—real motherfucking _roses_—for Spock their first Valentine's Day together. And every one after that. Yes, he knows it's illogical, and it's kind of a stupid holiday, but he does it.

So Jim puts up with Uhura's teasing, because they may not talk about their feelings and shit like that, but they aren't total emotional fuckwits, either.

Which is why, when Spock has his next double-shift and he stops by their quarters on the way to one of the labs just to give Jim a kiss and tell him "I love you," Jim has to hide his grin in the hollow of Spock's neck. Because _take that, Uhura_.

They communicate in the small things. In the brief touch of fingers; in the shared looks on the bridge; in whispers and almost imperceptible changes in tone; in the way they touch each other, always so, so gentle; in soft kisses; in the way they just _know_, the way they each trust the other implicitly.

It's a different kind of communication, because yeah, Uhura's right, they do sort of fail at the normal kind. But Jim is just arrogant enough and in love enough that he thinks it might kind of be better.


	13. Down in the Way You've Held Together

**"Try Try Try"--The Smashing Pumpkins**

**And... More fluff. Sort of. I mean, I think it's pretty fluffy, but I'm kind of weird. Whatever. Just enjoy. **

* * *

None of it should work. They should have been dead so many times now that Jim doesn't even bother asking Chekov about the probabilities anymore. And it's Chekov, because he and Sulu have this thing for betting on _everything_, and when they're all going to die is one of the bigger pots, at least at the moment. That, and he can't ask Spock, because Spock would probably kill him just for _wondering_. Because Spock is a possessive asshole, and he doesn't cope with things the way Jim does.

Jim has always dealt with things by drinking and fighting, which is practically a family legacy, really. He doesn't drink quite as much anymore as he used to, and he's got Spock or Sulu to spar with when he really needs to blow off steam and there isn't an impending crisis (but really, _when_ isn't there a crisis?). So he's had to find another defense mechanism. He jokes about it. And that drives Spock _crazy_.

Which, actually, Jim has the presence of mind to be grateful for on occasion, because hey, at least he knows Spock loves him. Which, you know, is pretty fucking awesome.

But see, Spock, while he gets that it's just a defensive thing, that Jim would probably go crazy if he _didn't_ joke about their imminent demise, doesn't deal with shit the way Jim does. He's got his meditation and whatever, and Jim's caught him translating old Vulcan texts through Standard to, like, Deltan or something. Because, well, Spock's probably the only one of them that is capable of coping in a way that's even remotely healthy. Jim loves that about him, really, he does.

And Spock, in all of his amazingness, really tries to just let it go. But he's a Vulcan, and he's _Spock_, and while Jim actually sort of loves the protectiveness, _sometimes_, other times it just pisses him off.

Spock told him once that he wasn't allowed to die. They'd been trapped planetside, and Jim was about ten seconds from bleeding out, and Spock's hands were clamped so tight against his side it was almost like his own skin. Jim was babbling something about the ship and the crew and trying to get Spock to at least tell Jim he loved him before he died on this godforsaken rock. And Spock had looked down with the most intense expression Jim had ever seen on his face this side of Pon Farr and growled at him that he wasn't allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever, preferably.

It may or may not have been the closest thing to a religious experience James T. Kirk has ever had. And he _believes it_, dammit. You don't deny something like that, not when the person saying it is practically holding you together and they have this look on their face like they'll tear apart the universe for you. You just don't. You go with it. And Jim is convinced that Spock is probably the only thing keeping him alive, _ever_.

He does not tell this to Chekov and Sulu. Let them have their fun.

Cause when it comes down to it, Jim and Spock's entire relationship is anchored in trying to hold on. It's all reaching, all grabbing for each other, all greed. It's all in trying to keep the other close, in relishing the feeling of skin and hair and lips because it might be the last time.

Bones once said that space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. Jim totally blew it off at the time, because he was twenty-two, ambitious, and finally about to get the hell out of Iowa. And see, the problem with that is when you discover that there's a person up in space with you that you don't think you can survive losing. When it's just you, it doesn't matter, and you can laugh in the face of disease and danger because it's _just you_ and you've got nothing to lose.

And see, Jim kind of has to joke about dying, because he's not sure he can face the reality of it. So he reaches, he pulls, he holds on as tight as he can, because he's not losing Spock. He _won't_. And they may not deal with things the same, and it might still drive Spock up the wall when Jim jokes about them all dying. But the feeling is still the same.

When Jim woke up in Sickbay, bandaged, stitched up, and still breathing, he put his hand on top of Spock's, which was still pressed lightly against his side, and squeezed.

"You're not allowed to die either, you idiot."


	14. I Make You See Stars

**"Might Like You Better"--Amanda Blank**

* * *

They don't get along. At all. It's driving Jim crazy, and it's starting to show.

The weird thing is, they get to this certain point where they click. Give them a crisis, and there's nobody better than Kirk and Spock. They've got the commendations to prove it.

But given a normal day out in the black, they're practically at each other's throats.

And they may be the two most dangerous guys in the Fleet, they may be the guys you give the impossible suicide missions, fully expecting them to pull it off. But they probably have the weirdest working relationship of any command team in Starfleet.

But even so, Jim is probably the only one who'll say it isn't working. The admiralty could give a shit, so long as they're successful. And they are, amazingly so. So Command leaves them alone, mostly (helps that Chris Pike likes Jim). But Jim's got to live with it, and that's _maddening_.

But he can't say things haven't changed at all. Spock's not going all emotionally compromised and strangling him on the bridge anymore. Which, you know, is kind of a step up. And Jim remembers telling Bones after a couple months out that Spock _seriously_ needed to get laid. And now—this, he _doesn't_ tell Bones—Jim would really like to be the one to do it. And he's not really sure when he stopped thinking of Spock as an obnoxious asshole and started respecting him (and appreciating how hot he is. Because _damn_).

So this whole thing with them fighting all the time? It's _really_ driving Jim insane. But he just can't _help _it sometimes. Because goddammit, Spock is a genius—a really, really hot genius—but sometimes he's wrong. He just _is,_ and there's nothing Jim can do about it but disagree and wait for it to blow up in their faces. Because it always, always does.

So Jim has a pretty damned good excuse for being surprised when he finds himself pinned between his desk and Spock, who—_holy fuck_ can he kiss. And then it's all wandering hands and tongues and Jim's pretty sure he can't ever come without a mindmeld again. And that thought is much less worrying than it probably should have been. But in his defense, he is in bed with his gorgeous Vulcan first officer.

So, needless to say, he doesn't really give a shit. And also, he thinks he might not want to have sex with anyone who isn't Spock. Like, ever. And yeah, it's partially because _fuck yes_ it _was_ that good. But it's also because—okay fine, he may actually be in love with his XO.

A couple of months ago, that thought would have freaked the everliving hell out of him. But he can't say that things haven't changed at all since then.

He's emotionally compromised. Hell, they both are. And there isn't any trachea-crushing evidence, but it's true. It isn't about being in space and being lonely. It isn't about the sex. And he'd better very well fucking admit it already, it's love. Which doesn't scare him anywhere near as much as he would have thought. Which is pretty great, actually.

Jim rolls off of his back. Spock's already awake (and how the hell did he do that? Jim still hasn't gotten used to how quiet he is).

"What the hell, Spock?" he asks, without thinking. He freaks out for a minute, thinking Spock's going to leave and shit's going to get even _worse_ on this goddamn ship. But Spock just raises an eyebrow, dark eyes clear and—almost—smiling.

"If you would clarify, Captain—"

"Jim, for God's sake, Spock."

"Jim." And there's something about the way Spock says his name that makes him think Spock's probably just fucking with him, because, for one thing, they just had sex, and for another, Spock is an asshole.

"I—You… Why… How the _fuck_ did this happen?" He's not really sure how else to put it. And he isn't really sure how to process the fact that he's here. Next to Spock. In bed. Naked, and—holy hell, did he mention that Spock is gorgeous?

And Jim kind of falls in love with him all over again, because he doesn't pretend he can't translate Jim Kirk to something he can understand. He just thinks about it for a minute.

And Jim, being Jim, has to interrupt, because he's a tiny bit scared for what Spock's going to say. "I mean… I didn't even think you liked me, much less—"

"Loved you?"

It's so soft, _so_ fucking soft, and Jim isn't exactly sure for a second what he'd said. And then it processes, and Jim breaks out into a grin. "Seriously?"

Spock raises an eyebrow again, and Jim has to resist the urge to kiss him. "What cause could I have to lie to you, Jim?"

And that's about all he can take, and he's kissing Spock, cupping his face in his hands and pressing him into the mattress. "I love you, too," he murmurs against Spock's lips.

They _will_ have to talk about this later. Because Jim's not really sure how they made the jump from (apparently, at least) hating each other to… this. And right at this moment, he's not complaining. Later. Later they will talk, they will figure this out, they will explain and apologize, and work out how to live and work with each other. For now, though? For now, this is perfect.

* * *

**So. Yeah. I know it's not all _that_ smutty. I'm sorry? I'm not very good at it. Plus, I think I'm incapable of writing anything that doesn't eventually become fluff. At least for now. But _anyway_, I hope you all liked. Review and let me know?**


	15. How Many Paths Have Crossed Between Us

**"I Found a Reason"--The Velvet Underground**

* * *

He shouldn't actually be worried. Spock told him this just before he left with the rest of the landing party. And he _trusts_ Spock. Vulcans don't lie. When Spock told him _that,_ Jim didn't tell him that he had no way of knowing whether or not it was a lie. But he didn't. Instead, he just let Spock keep talking, much as he wanted to be able to make a conclusive argument that he should go. Just because he insists on going on every away mission… And there _is _a reason for that. The way he's gripping the arms of his chair, just waiting for something to go wrong? Yeah, _that's_ why. (The part of his brain that's still capable of semi-rational thought is kind of surprised Bones hasn't sedated him yet.)

Jim's a hands-on kind of captain. And part of that is that he's a bit of an adrenaline junkie; as in, he pretty much hates the diplomatic, bureaucratic bullshit he's currently mired in. Plus, he's got this desperate need to protect his people, which he can't exactly do when he's stuck on the bridge.

He glances over at Uhura, who rolls her eyes. "No word from the landing party, Captain. They aren't due to report for another twenty minutes," she says, trying to hold back the sarcasm and annoyance in her voice.

And okay, so he _did_ ask five minutes ago, but still. Jim wonders vaguely if he can write her up for insubordination. "Directing snark toward a superior officer," maybe.

God, Jim needs some sleep. Not that he'd be able to sleep if he tried (he's gotten way too used to sleeping with Spock. And there's no way he can even think about sleeping alone when he knows Spock is down there. He's not quite desperate enough to face Bones and a hypo full of sedative, though. But give him another hour). Later, he'll blame Spock for this.

And he _will,_ because he refuses to even entertain the notion that Spock won't come back.

"Not allowed to die, dammit," Jim mutters, teeth clenched. If Spock weren't so damned _logical_, Jim would be down there right now instead of making nice with Starfleet Command.

After a meeting with Archer, Chekov reminds him that the probability of something going wrong planetside is decreased exponentially when he _isn't_ with the away team. Jim glares at him (he feels guilty almost immediately. It's kind of like kicking a puppy, really), and the kid turns sheepishly back to his station. Whatever. Jim'll apologize later, when Spock's team is back.

The next twenty minutes are the slowest of Jim's life. He tries to sit still, at least _act_ somewhat dignified and captainly. But he's sure the bridge crew notices his anxiety. Especially the lieutenant who took over Spock's station. She look uncomfortable, like she'll bolt if Jim so much as _looks_ at her.

Finally, Scotty calls up to the bridge. The landing party is ready to beam up. Jim can _hear_ Uhura's relieved exhale, but he's out of his chair and into the lift before anyone can say anything. He's pretty sure all the tension leaves the bridge when he does, but he doesn't really care. The anxious feeling in his stomach grows the closer he gets to the transporter room.

"Captain." And that's all it takes; the tension just leaks out of him, replaced with a torrent of _ohthankgodhe'sallrightthey'reallalive_. Spock is giving him this look, and Jim half-grins.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spock," he says as they enter the lift together.

Spock runs his hand through Jim's hair, bringing it to rest at the back of his neck. He pulls, gently, until their foreheads touch.

"It is good to be home, Jim," he whispers, and Jim can't help it. He kisses him.

"Don't you dare leave me again."

Spock gives him that look, the one that would have been a laugh with anyone else. His eyes are shining. That's how Jim knows.

"I shall. But I assure you, Jim, I shall always return."

Jim doesn't exactly like that. Not right now, when he's spent the last god knows how long worrying. But he understands. It's enough.

"Yeah, all right. Just so long as you come home. Stubborn bastard." Which earns him a kiss. Jim can live with that.

* * *

**Now, this one could go either way, but Goddess, I can't help but think of the TOS boys and their _spectacular_ 2-second reunions. Seriously. Those boys, they know what the hell they're doing. BAMF. Anyway, I hope this one's decent. I think my muse is hooked on fluff right now, but I'm not going to complain. **


	16. In the Sun I Feel as One

**"All Apologies"--Nirvana**

* * *

The past three months have been hell, but Jim refuses to actually say it. Spock's being a dick about it, telling Jim how much he needs to rest, needs to relax, needs to _let someone else run the thing for two fucking seconds, goddammit, Jim_. Okay, so that last one came from Bones, but still. And Spock's fucking _lording_ it over him about his Vulcan-ness or whatever, how he doesn't need as much sleep, blah blah blah.

But Jim knows the truth. Spock doesn't know he knows, but that's just a testament to how tired the dumb bastard is, because Jim's _always_ focused on Spock, and if his bondmate hasn't figured that out yet? His problem, not Jim's.

The point is, they all need some rest. The bridge crew is exhausted. Jim's really kind of proud of the way they try not to show it, but it's obvious.

So that's how he and Spock end up on Vulcan II. Now normally, Jim would not consider it a prime vacation spot—it's hotter than hell, and the atmosphere isn't exactly comfortable—but he goes with it, because for one, Spock is the _only_ person Jim knows who would do anything even _resembling_ work on shore leave, and for two, Spock doesn't ask much of him, really, and Jim wants to give him this. It isn't exactly home, and it can actually get pretty tense sometimes, depending on how long Spock's been avoiding Sarek before they get there, but Jim knows that Spock needs it sometimes. Maybe it's a mom thing. And Jim doesn't question mom things, because… it's Spock, and Jim's also got no room to talk.

So they're on Vulcan.

They get some interesting looks from the colonists, some curious, some sort of… not _openly_ hostile, but… resentful, maybe. Jim doesn't mind too much, because when has Jim Kirk _ever_ really cared what people thought? And Spock ignores it, probably because he's had to deal with it all his life. And _that_? That's what makes Jim's heart ache for him. And he wishes he could just reach out and grab Spock's hand, but he can't risk _really_ scandalizing everyone, so he just tries to push some love and reassurance through their bond and hope Spock gets it.

Sarek meets them, and things get a bit awkward (Jim's still not really sure where Sarek stands on the whole being-bonded-to-his-son thing), but then Sarek shows them their house. They have a fucking _house_. Spock explains something about clans and Vulcan society shit that Jim would normally pay just enough attention to so as not to piss Spock off, but holy shit, they have a _house_ on Vulcan II. With a pool. Jim's pretty sure it's the only house on the colony with a pool, which makes him a little bit happy, because maybe Sarek doesn't hate him _entirely_. Either that or he's just resigned himself to the fact that Spock's married a human and there isn't really anything the pot can say to the kettle about that one. Either way, Jim's happy.

Happy enough to strip naked (and he has the presence of mind to make sure nobody's coming over or anything, because he really doesn't want to deal with the fallout of _that_ little faux pas) and jump right into the water. Spock doesn't say anything when he does, but Jim can see that look in his eyes, the one he gets when he wants to laugh. So he knows Spock doesn't mind.

The water isn't exactly cool, but it's heaven compared to the heat of Vulcan II, so Jim can't really complain. He holds himself under the water for a few seconds—_bliss_. Spock is sitting in a chair near the house, reading something on a datapad. Which is so typical Spock, but Jim can see the normally-harsh lines of his body soften like they never do on the bridge. If it were Jim—or any other human, probably—it would be a full-on slouch.

And Jim's glad Spock's getting to relax, he really is, but shore leave is not the time for work.

So, Jim does the logical thing—a fact which Spock is going to protest later, Jim knows, but just trust him on this, it's the logical thing. He gets out of the pool, not bothering to grab a towel, and takes the pad out of Spock's hand.

"_Shore leave,_ Spock," he says, trying to use his stern captain-voice (it's not working, but that might just be because Spock just totally gave him a once-over, and Jim knows what that means). "I know Standard isn't your first language, but you speak it just fine. So I know that you know what shore leave means. And that means _no work_."

Spock doesn't even try to argue, just reaches lamely for the pad. Which tells Jim all he needs to know. He's won.

They end up sprawled out on the warm stone next to the pool, sun drying their water and sweat-soaked skin. They're side-by-side, because Jim doesn't know if he can handle any more heat right now. He takes Spock's hand, though, because _that_ he can handle, pressing soft, languid kisses to his bondmate's fingers.

* * *

**Firstly, I have a hand kink, and I am not ashamed to admit that. Second... yes, there is more fluff. But I'm working on some more serious stuff (like three works-in-progress, at least one of which will be finished as soon as I can kick my ass into gear and finish it), so I'll give myself a break for the excessive fluff. And I'm sure you all don't mind. **


	17. So I Don't Plan on Stopping at All

**"Forever"--Drake, Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Eminem**

**Yes, I'm still alive, and I still plan on writing more of these. I've just been caught up in a bunch of longer fics, and this has been my first chance to update. So. I really don't like this song that much, but it somehow ended up on my iPod from my brothers. Whatever. Interestingly enough, the lyrics fit. So whatever. Enjoy**

* * *

The thing is, he doesn't fucking live in shades of gray. Spock does. It's weird. You'd think it'd be the other way around, what with the whole logic thing. It's either logical or it isn't (in Jim's case, he's usually on the illogical side of things). Except, that isn't how it works, and he's gotten enough "That would be illogical, Captain"s to know that.

Because Spock could give a shit about what's right and wrong. Okay, actually that's a lie, Jim knows it, it's just fucking _irritating _sometimes, when Spock gives him the eyebrow and he doesn't even have to _tell him_ it's illogical anymore because Jim fucking knows that look. See, Spock's all about logic, and logic doesn't tell you whether or not you _should_ save the chief's daughter from whatever-the-hell-it-is-this-time, it just tells you math and stupid probabilities. Which doesn't work for Jim. He needs to know what's the right thing to do. And that shit's complicated enough without Spock's logic and then he and Bones having their stupid goddamn arguments on the bridge.

Jim seriously wishes sometimes that he wasn't a rule-by-committee kind of captain. But then, it's not like he's got enough experience to be anything but.

Goddamn the admiralty.

See, it's not that he doesn't want it. He loves his ship, and she loves him back. And it's pretty much all he's wanted since he was a kid, give or take the couple years he spent drunk. And he's not about to let somebody take his baby away, so he works his ass off to make sure everything's okay and that their disasters don't stay disasters.

And they've started calling him and Spock the greatest command team in Starfleet. Jim's pretty proud of that. Especially since it's greatest _command team_. Not captain. He's glad Spock's getting the credit he deserves, even though Jim knows he'll be all humble about it.

But the point is, Jim doesn't know how long it's gonna last. They're walking this fucking tightrope, and Jim knows it could snap at any second. It's fucking _terrifying_. And all Jim can do is hold on and hope to god that it doesn't.

Jim needs to know that he's doing the right thing, because if he can't he might go insane. Because if the tightrope's going to snap, if he's going to lose everything? He needs to know that he did the right thing, in the end.

Spock, of course, thinks he's an idiot, but Spock is emotionally compromised. Constantly. And he knows this, because Bones tells him. All the goddamned time.

And Bones tells _Jim_ that he really shouldn't be okay with that, because their title as the 'Fleet's best command team is just as tenuous as their continued lifespan. One mistake, and they're fucked. Because nothing can ever happen to Jim or Spock because the other will be emotionally compromised, and they can't exactly expect anyone else to take over because the rest of the crew probably wouldn't do any better at _not_ fucking blowing the motherfuckers to hell.

Which is probably why Bones is always bitching about all their visits to sickbay. Because he knows that he wouldn't be any better at keeping it together. If anything ever happened to Jim, he'd probably kill the motherfuckers that did it, just as much as anyone else.

And instead of making him worried, making him _change_ things, all that does is make Jim drag Spock back to their room and fuck him like there's no tomorrow, because maybe there _isn't. _


	18. Wide Awake You Face the Day

**"Silent Lucidity"--Queensryche**

****

So, apparently, once I start, I can't stop. Two updates in one day, and this is /ridiculous/. Also, this chapter is all weird and cerebral, but I like it. Personally. Even though it probably makes no sense at all. Oh well. I tried. THERE'S CUTENESS AT THE END, I SWEAR.

OH OH, also. This is another AU, which probably doesn't fit in with most of the other chapters in this fic, which (mostly) follow "Belief in Angels"verse. If you all like it, I might add to it later. Even though really, it's only vaguely AU, as most of my AUs follow canon pretty close, with just some fun little changes.

AND THIS A/N WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS LONG. Sorry. Just two things. 1) PM ME. And/or review. I /ADORE/ hearing from you all. 2) Enjoy.

* * *

_It's dark, but it's that weird kind of dark that's got these vague colors blending through it. You think for a moment that it's movement, but it isn't. You have to keep reminding yourself that it isn't, because you're not sure what reality is anymore and this is the best you've got. _

_You feel weird, like everything's dropped away until you're left with… this. Whatever this is. _

_You're reaching out with the idea that's left of what your "hand" should be. You're not sure if you expected to feel something, but even if you did you're not prepared for this. It's cold, and it's wrapping around your "hand," and it feels like… you actually have no idea what it feels like. It doesn't feel like your conception of "nothing," if you ever had one. But you suppose that if it doesn't feel like anything you have ever experienced, it must, by definition, feel like "nothing."_

_Philosophical speculation isn't helping matters much, really. _

_You realize that he's bleeding through a little, into the cracks left by your life. It's a comforting thought, most of the time, being able to feel him, to realize that, yes, you've changed each other, somewhere in your minds. It makes you feel as if you've gained something. _

_Which you have. You have. _

_It's just that you're deathly afraid of losing it, and you can't feel it now. Those cracks have all been filled in, even though you know they should be there. They exist in all minds, merely a result of living life. In order to lose them one would have to be… _

_No. _

_You cannot accept that, because you still aren't sure if this is your mind, and if it isn't…_

_No. _

_It doesn't matter. _

_Instead, you reach, because it is what you know how to do. You don't know how to lose, any more than he does. You reach, you grab, you touch. If you ever discover a way out of here, you will tell him this. You will let him know that you never let go. He will understand, and perhaps he will even hold you. He is so tentative still, as if he is afraid you will break if he is not careful. It's stupid. Neither of you is weak. _

_He has always been the exception to the rule, and he doesn't seem to understand what that means. He can see it in your eyes, but he doesn't know how to reach that far. You believe he's afraid he'll over-step. You aren't used to this timidity. You don't like it, but you don't know how to tell him that he's allowed to touch you. You won't break. _

_But this all hinges on your ability to get out of here. And you still don't know how to accomplish that. _

_So, you reach. You tear at the darkness, trying to expose the cracks. You know what his mind looks like; you know what you are searching for. You rend the undulating black, but more seeps in through the cuts you've made, and your "fingers" feel raw. _

_Your "fingers." Your "hands." You—_

_Oh. _

_You relax your "fingers," and you stroke the darkness, gently feeling your way through it, until you find what you are looking for and—_

Spock opens his eyes, and his vision swims between light and darkness. He blinks, realizes that his mind has not yet distinguished between _Spock_ and _Jim_.

Jim.

He's laying next-to-sort-of-under Spock, who has his fingers cupped around Jim's face, still in vaguely the same position they had been over the psi-points. Relief floods through him, and he rolls over, blinking slowly, never quite breaking contact with Jim.

They're on the floor of one of the science labs. Apparently they never made it to sickbay. T'Pring is there, kneeling down next to them while Doctor McCoy barks orders in the background.

"Idiot," she says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Spock notices wryly that she has picked up Human slang and colloquialisms much more quickly than he has been able to. "You always were the better telepath."

There is a groan coming from next to him, and Spock looks over at Jim, whose eyes are blinking away the residual darkness. He tries to sit up, but suddenly McCoy is there, shoving him back down. Jim groans again, and Spock aches to touch him. "What the hell happened?" he's looking at Spock, expecting an answer, something to make sense of all this. Spock just shakes his head. He hates that he has no answer to give.

Spock looks to T'Pring, to McCoy, hoping one of them will say something. Neither seems to have any idea. So he shifts his gaze back to Jim, who is shivering on the floor, blue eyes rimmed in red, biting his lip to keep from making noise. Spock grasps his shoulder, forcing Jim to look at him.

"Capt—Jim. Jim, look at me." He can't, it seems, eyes locked on the floor, on Spock's other hand. "Jim. Jim, what did you see?" Jim just shakes his head.

"Spock. Hold me, just hold me."

The words come out in a whisper, hesitant, almost embarrassed. Neither McCoy nor T'Pring says a word. So Spock simply gathers Jim up in his arms, tucks his head under his chin, and holds him.


	19. The Same as Where I Came From

**I am /so sorry/ for the long wait for an update. I've been working on a bunch of other stuff, and there's been school, and... Blegh. So. I plan to update at least once more, if I can motivate myself. But I /promise/ I will try to keep up with more regular updates. Anyway, enjoy. **

**"High School Never Ends"--Bowling For Soup**

* * *

The thing is, he had two months between the end of the _Narada_ and the day the _Enterprise_ shipped out. And during that time, frantically trying to find a First Officer like Spock, before he found out he didn't actually _need_ to (he still hasn't forgiven Spock, completely), and in keeping with—as Bones put it—his overly-obsessive personality, he thought about what it would be like. _Constantly_. So yeah, he had a few expectations, going in. Most of them got trashed within their first month in the black (like the fact that he figured he and Spock would spend at least that long fighting. They do, actually, but he didn't expect there to be sex, too. So he figures it counts).

But the one thing he really never expected was how incredibly fucking _high school_ the whole thing is.

They aren't the cool kids. The admiralty barely tolerates them, which is mostly Pike's doing. Plus, they're all nerds anyway, so. They aren't the popular kids, but among the nerds they're royalty.

And they're damned cliquish about it, too. Not necessarily on purpose, at least at first. At first, it's Jim and Bones at one table, and then Spock joins them, and Uhura sits with the nurses mostly, Chapel and Beauvoir. Chekov and Sulu take up a full two tables themselves, which end up covered in datapads and random calculations. And Engineering is like a whole secret society unto itself, and nobody's going anywhere near that.

But when you almost die with somebody, when you've got to trust them completely to do their job so you won't die this time, you tend to get a little co-dependent. Jim doesn't think they could get away from each other if they _tried_. It's probably a bad sign that he doesn't care more.

Cause the whole thing is probably unhealthy.

Also, it's kind of funny, their relationships.

Like that Scotty's fucking _married_ to the _Enterprise_. Even leaving Engineering seems to pain him. And Chekov and Sulu are probably soulmates, but they've broken up and gotten back together so many times that Jim lost count months ago. Uhura and Chapel's relationship is pretty stable, but nobody wants to fuck with them because alone they're scary enough, but together? Fuck that. Even Jim knew better. Plus, Bones and Uhura are, like, best friends now, which is pretty terrifying.

And Jim and Spock? Well, they've stopped trying to kill each other, but everyone's still convinced they're crazy. Which Jim denies but… Well yeah, they probably are.

And there's always "that couple" in high school. The whole head cheerleader-quarterback thing. The ones that everybody just kind of expects to be together, and everybody'd be all shocked if they ever broke up.

That's Jim and Spock. It took Jim awhile to realize this; he's never been part of "that couple." He's got no idea what it's like to be part of "that couple." It's weird. But he sort of likes it, though he'll only admit that if he's _really_ drunk.

Jim is pretty sure he's the quarterback (if the quarterback were also, say, captain of the math team). But of course, that's about when the analogy falls apart, because Spock's more chess nerd than cheerleader (and he means this as a compliment, really. He's had bad experiences with cheerleaders).

It's Uhura, of course, who's the head cheerleader, the queen of the bridge crew. Chapel, Beauvoir, Masters, and all the girls—hell, all the _crew_, when it comes down to it—would follow her to the ends of the universe. She's a brilliant acting captain, and Jim's not afraid to admit she's saved his life more than once.

But really, it's a little ridiculous how much he thinks about this. Actually, it's a little bit more ridiculous how well they fit the analogy.

He tells Bones about it one day. Mistake? Probably.

"Yeah? Well, the whole damned ship is practically in high school. You've got a seventeen-year-old on tactical, Jim. Does this surprise you at all?"

He's got a point, really.

Which is why, when Chekov and Sulu break up _again_, Jim just kind of rolls his eyes and waits for them to get back together for the million-and-first time. It's a little depressing, really. But hey, at least if he's going to be on a ship full of high school kids they might as well be the genius high school kids, right?

But then he tries to get the crew to elect Uhura prom queen, as a joke. Yeah, maybe it's a bit much. Spock tells him so.

Uhura gives him dirty looks and the silent treatment for a week. And yeah, that's pretty fucking high school too. Goddammit.


	20. Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose

**"Me and Bobby McGee"--Janis Joplin**

**All I can say in my defense is that I didn't mean for this to be so long. But here it is. **

* * *

The meet for the first time in a park in San Francisco. Jim's been here for a few months now, playing the occasional club or coffeehouse (the ones that'll actually let him in) for change so he can eat. San Francisco's nicer than L.A., that's for sure. L.A., he left after less than a month. He may not have liked Riverside, but he's got a residual Midwest distaste for anything fake, and L.A.'s about as fake as it gets.

Anyway, that's where they meet. Jim likes playing the parks near Starfleet Academy. Most of the cadets are nice, and they're all smart, so if they ever stop to talk it's intelligent conversation. So that's where he is, sitting cross-legged on a park bench with his old acoustic guitar in his lap.

Jim notices him because he's Vulcan, at first, and he's not ashamed to admit that. He's been all over the country, it's not like he hasn't seen—and slept with—a whole lot of aliens. But a Vulcan… Jim's rarely seen one, and when he does they never stop to listen.

This one does. This one is different. He's got the pale skin, the pointed ears. But he's also got these eyes, deep and dark brown, and Jim could fall into them, if he's not careful.

The guy doesn't have any money. He's a cadet, judging from what he's wearing, and cadets never have money. He looks kind of embarrassed about it, when the song ends and the crowd—such as it is—disperses. The guy takes an abortive step forward, then freezes, his eyes locked on the ground.

"It's okay," Jim says, improvising an instrumental on his guitar. He grins at the guy. "Cadet, huh? Focus?"

The cadet clasps his hands behind his back and steps forward. They end up talking for an hour, until the guy's got class to get to.

Later, when Jim's in the middle of an old Mason Jennings song, he remembers that he never got that cadet's name.

So now it's six months later, and Jim's on his way to New Orleans. He'd cut out of San Francisco a couple weeks after meeting that cadet in the park, hitchhiking his way east when he didn't have enough change for a bus. He'd thought about going back to Riverside for, oh, about ten seconds before deciding on New Orleans.

So he's broke, and he's walking down the highway, and it's about to rain. Goddammit.

And then, mercifully, somebody pulls over a flitter, just as Jim hears a clap of thunder.

"Thanks, man. Really appreciate this. It's about to get bad out there," Jim says as the flitter's door swings open.

And then, holy shit. It's him. Jim doesn't know how he knows; he barely remembers the guy in the sea of faces he's seen in the past six months. Plus, Jim's fucking _awful_ with people, and he's got no talent for remembering faces. It's all flashes: of dark, human eyes; the twitch of beautiful lips when Jim said something he assumes was funny but no longer remembers; the way he looked at Jim as he walked away, a murmured "live long and prosper," and the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't.

Yeah, it's definitely him. Bonus? Jim's pretty sure the guy recognizes him, too.

"I had thought you lived in San Francisco," he says, eyebrow quirked. Yeah, he remembers. Awesome.

Jim grins, closing the door and tossing his guitar case in the backseat. "Nah. It was nice, but…"

"You are too big for wherever you came from. You are searching for something, and you believe travel will ease your desire." It's quiet, calm, utterly matter-of-fact. It's _amazing_.

"Wow, psychoanalysis after thirty seconds, huh? That's pretty impressive…" He trails off, remembering that he never got the guy's name.

"Spock."

"Spock," Jim repeats, slowly, trying to grasp the feel of it. "I'm Jim. Jim Kirk."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Jim," Spock says, and Jim gets the feeling he really means it.

"Same here," Jim says, grinning. It's started raining, loud and heavy, cutting them off from everything outside. "So, what brings you all the way out here?"

Spock is quiet for a moment, both hands gripping the steering wheel. Jim's about to apologize when Spock says, "My mother's family lives in New Orleans."

"Really? No offense, but that seems weird for Vulcans." Spock seems to tense up again, and Jim mentally kicks himself. He managed their first conversation without pissing Spock off, that much he remembers. Why he's failing so miserably now, he doesn't know.

But Spock answers him anyway. "They are not Vulcan. My mother is human."

"Oh." It looks like it's a sensitive subject for Spock, and Jim decides it's best not to push it, but he doesn't know what to say. Spock doesn't seem too bothered by that, but Jim can't stand silence.

He flips on the radio, unthinking. It's only after the music starts to play that Jim remembers he shouldn't mess with another person's music. "I'm sorry," he says belatedly, blushing. "You can turn it off, if you want."

Spock shakes his head. "You may leave it. It is… pleasant."

Jim grins, his fingers forming chords automatically in the air.

"You like music?" he asks, still grinning like an idiot.

Spock thinks for a moment, then nods slowly. "I do. I am very familiar with the traditional music of my home planet, however… I find your guitar music to be fascinating.

"Why thank you, Mr. Spock," Jim teases.

"You are welcome, Jim," Spock replies, all seriousness.

And so it goes. Jim offers to drive, but Spock refuses. So they talk, all the way to New Orleans.

Spock offers to take Jim to his family's place. Jim gets that it's a big thing for Spock, but he doesn't know how to say yes. It's too big, and going with him would be too… intimate.

Translation, his brother would say, you're scared.

So yeah, maybe he is. But he just can't do it.

"No thanks, Spock," he says. "Just… drop me off anywhere."

"Are you certain that—"

"Yeah," Jim says, "Yeah, I'll be fine. Don't worry about it. Have fun with your family."

Spock gives him a look like he's going to say something, but Jim just grins and grabs his guitar case from the backseat.

"Thanks for the ride."

Jim closes the door before Spock can say anything. He tries not to see the confusion on Spock's face, the subtle emotion in his eyes.

"Why the hell do you trust me? Why do you like me? Why do I feel like I shouldn't leave you?" he wants to shout this at Spock, to open the door and ask him, _beg_ him. But he doesn't.

It's still raining, but softly.

It's been a month. And it's not that he's going stir-crazy, actually. He likes New Orleans. The people are nice, and the money's a little steadier, possibly. Or maybe that's just the way the atmosphere is lighter, thick but somehow… There's joy, here, and Jim's starting to catch it.

But he knows it's only a matter of time before he leaves. It isn't that he doesn't like it, it's just. Not enough.

Spock understood that. Spock understood, and Jim misses that connection, that energy. Jim's a social guy; he likes people. But he doesn't do well with them. He doesn't connect. He's charming, but he's not honest. Spock, though. Spock, he could make uncomfortable, could push boundaries with, and it would be okay. With Spock, he could be honest.

Jim thinks it's a little stupid that he's imagining he's, like, fucking _soulmates_ with this guy, like some twelve-year-old girl. He doesn't even _know_ Spock, really.

But the thing is, he _could_ have, if he'd stayed. It's a little terrifying, thinking he's missed an opportunity. And Jim? Doesn't do well with that shit.

So it's not that he doesn't like New Orleans. He does. But he's stagnant here, and he knows what he wants. It isn't this. Even here, it's all too small.

San Francisco isn't big enough, either, to be fair. But Spock is there, and if Jim plays his cards right that might make it enough. He's hoping it will, but if not? Maybe space could be. At this point, Jim's not ruling anything out.

Six months later, when Spock asks him if he wants to join Starfleet, Jim tells him this. Spock's learned by this point that expecting concrete, spoken commitment from Jim is futile. Instead, he takes it as a yes and sends the application to Jim's datapad.

Jim will be an amazing captain. But he will refuse to go into space without his guitar, and sometimes, when things are easy and there's not a crisis, Uhura will sing as Spock and Jim meld disparate music and personalities into a whole.


	21. My Perfect Little Punching Bag

**"Please Don't Leave Me"--Pink**

**Wow. I haven't updated in /ages/, for which I apologize. And then I come back with this /monster./ I really don't know what happened. It ran away with me, really it did. It's not that it's /angsty/ really, so much that it's... Angry. With a small dose of fluff at the end, because... It's me. **

* * *

So this time, he swears, they're going to tear the fucking ship to pieces. Bit by bit. And it won't even matter, technically, because Jim's going to be dead long before they get to the blood boiling in thirty seconds or any of the other nasty ways space can kill them all. Jim's going to be lucky, really, not to have to live through that. Because Spock is going to kill him first. He's sure.

The first time it was… The sex was like an _extension_. Like it was just part of the fight, the logical conclusion. Like there was nothing else they could possibly say, nothing else to throw at each other, so they just threw _themselves_.

And the really, really fucked up thing is, the second time? They'd just almost died, and Spock had pulled him into some, like, briefing room or something and fucked him into the wall, and it wasn't angry at all. It was all relief and desperation and Jim squeezing Spock's hands as hard as he could because Spock was _alive_ and thank god.

Jim wishes, on every fucking star he can see from the observation deck he's on, that that had ended it, that something had shifted and they finally understood each other. That they'd evened out. That they'd stopped throwing themselves against each other and waiting for the other one to give, and probably knowing, somewhere, that it would never happen.

This is, he thinks, the first time the stars have failed him.

"Captain."

And here we go, round 326 in the epic battle of James Tiberius Kirk and Spock. It would have been hilarious if Jim wasn't waiting for the inevitable day when they just killed each other, simply because they'd run out of things to shout at each other.

Jim turns. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

He's struck, once again, by the intensity in Spock's eyes, which would be so fucking _beautiful_ if they weren't so damned cold.

"I wish to discuss certain events during our last mission—"

And oh _fuck_, he so should have known.

"Look, Spock, can you just put all your lecturing and 'unbecoming of a Starfleet captain's in your report? I'll read it, and I'll even imagine you saying it if it will make you happy, so long as you _don't actually say it_." Jim's fully aware that he's practically _growling_ at Spock, who just stands there and _takes it_, and that just pisses Jim off even more. "Well? Say something, dammit!"

"Captain, with all due respect—"

"Spock, for Chrissake, can you just—"

"—I am simply pointing out that—"

"Well thanks _ever so much_, but I didn't ask for—"

"—As your First Officer, I—"

"—Can _fuck off._ Seriously, Spock. It's fine. Nobody died, no intergalactic war, what's the big deal?"

"The 'big deal,' Captain, is that—"

Jim throws his head back, staring at the ceiling in a distinctly 'why me?' fashion, and then fixes his eyes back on Spock, whose own eyes have gone dark. "Spock. I said I don't want to hear it, dammit."

"Then I am at a loss as to why you accepted me as your First Officer, Captain."

Silence. Like the calm before the storm. Jim thinks he might possibly make it through this argument without totally losing it, for the space of about ten seconds. And then all hell breaks loose.

"Well you know what? I am too. Because I swear to god, I don't fucking need this. I don't fucking need _you_."

There is a voice in the back of his head that says, _And I don't know why I ever thought I did._

And the thing is this. The house Jim grew up in… He knows how to take care of himself. He knows how to keep himself safe, how to not let things bother him, how to cut and scream and drive people away because something in him _knows_ it's going to hurt worse if he doesn't.

Spock's been fucking with that control since the moment they met, and that is unacceptable. So Jim screams at him, because it's what he knows how to do.

But see, despite all of that, Jim doesn't know when he became this _mean_. When he learned to see the subtle twitches in Spock's eyebrow, the tinges of emotion in his eyes, simply so he'd know when he struck home, when even Spock couldn't hide his reaction. He doesn't know when he went prodding, searching with insults, until he found a surefire way to piss off his XO.

And it isn't just him. Spock gets this feral, defensive look in his eyes, and he jabs right back at Jim, like a cornered animal.

And Jim wonders why they just can't leave each other _alone_. Why they keep doing this, when they both know what the result is going to be.

It takes a slightly ridiculous amount of time for Jim to snap out of it and realize that Spock's been standing there, silent, every single fucking muscle in his body tensed up like he's going to kill Jim any second now.

"Very well then," Spock says, and Jim practically _jumps_, expecting anything but that. He's too stunned to speak, and he can't figure out how Spock takes his silence because then he's turning on his heel and walking away.

And Jim fucking _panics_, and he can't figure out why. All he knows is he can't let Spock leave.

"Wait," he shouts. And it's a testament to how pissed Spock is that he doesn't even pause, not for a second. He just keeps walking. And Jim wants to either strangle him or fuck him, he can't figure out which.

He goes for somewhere in between, grabbing Spock's wrist to keep him from leaving, then pulling him down by the back of the neck and kissing him, hard and dirty. He doesn't bother with coy; he knows exactly where this is going. No teasing, he just pushes his tongue into Spock's mouth, and Spock apparently can't decide what he wants to do either, because he's got one hand fisted in the back of Jim's shirt, _clinging_ to him, and the other leaving bruises on Jim's hip.

It's fucked up that Jim knows exactly where to touch, exactly how to make Spock moan and press against him. It's fucked up that they keep doing this, and Jim's never felt this much emotion when it comes to sex, but he's pretty sure these are not the feelings one typically should have concerning it. This is, technically speaking, the first non-casual sex he's ever had, and the fact that _this is it_ really makes him want to scream.

They're still arguing, really, even though they haven't said anything in awhile and Jim is trying to pull Spock's shirt off while Spock is determined not to break contact with Jim's collarbone, where he is currently sucking bruises.

But really, they are. Because it's all Spock, who's fucking _carrying _Jim, his legs wrapped around Spock's waist. It's Spock who practically throws Jim into the wall, who is undressing Jim with smooth efficiency (and Jim has no _idea_ how he does that). And Jim is left struggling against him, leaving bruises on every inch of skin he can reach, scratching all the way down Spock's back. It's the same argument, carried out against each other's skin.

It's entirely too fucked up.

And Jim knows he should care. Intellectually, yes, he should care. But now, _right now_, he can't bring himself to. He went beyond caring about the time he started screaming—yes, _screaming_—Spock's name, and fuck, it's all over.

The thing is, it doesn't fucking matter how many times they do this. Jim's always gonna come back for more.

But then Spock's leaving. Spock always leaves. This isn't… this is just rough, angry sex, and Jim doesn't know how to do this any other way, but he knows Spock shouldn't be leaving, if he wants to do this right.

"Wait."

Spock turns, and _fuck _is he gorgeous. His hair is mussed; his skin tinged a faint green, sweat glistening against it as it cools.

"You… You can't go out there looking like that. Because I promise you I look fucked out, and you don't look much better." He's not sure if he actually expects Spock to stay, why he _wants_ Spock to stay. But it's too late.

Spock's eyes are fixed on the floor, but Jim can see the way his shoulders relax, the moment he realizes it's logical to stay. It's just… it's like he can't decide himself why he's still here, so he just stands there, unsure.

And Jim, who at least has the decency to pull his pants back on, reaches out, tentatively. He's pretty sure Spock's going to break his arm. But he doesn't, and Jim's hand reaches Spock's face intact, which is a small miracle in itself.

"Don't you ever fucking leave me," he says, and it sounds biting, sounds defensive. He wonders why there's an undercurrent of vulnerability and if Spock's sensed it. The look on his XO's face is completely unreadable.

"I need you," Jim says, in a whisper. He isn't sure why. He isn't even sure if it's true… No, that's a lie. It's true. He just doesn't know _why_.

Spock, for once, doesn't seem to know what to say. So, he kisses Jim. It's fragile, and Jim knows better than to open his mouth, because he'll break it. He just lets it happen, pressing back just slightly, making sure Spock knows it's okay. Even if it isn't.


	22. Break the Lock if it Don't Fit

"Kiss with a Fist"--Florence+The Machine

I actually wasn't intending to write this. It just sort of happened. It's another intense one. I guess after all the fluff I had to get this out of my system. Don't get me wrong, I love fluffy, TOS-style epic love as much as the next girl, but there is something I just /adore/ about the dynamic with the Reboot boys.

Also, just as a public service announcement, someone made the comment that they think I should split these up into separate one-shots because this fic is becoming a /monster/ (16000 words, what?). So. The plan is to get up to 25 chapters and then put this one away. If I write any more like this, they will probably be either separate fics or I may put them together like I did with this one. We'll see. Let me know what you think, if you'd like.

* * *

Very possibly it's the most fucked up thing in the universe that it's the best sex he's ever had in his life, because when he wakes up he's covered in bruises and he doesn't even _remember_ why he hurts in certain places and he swears he was totally sober last night.

It's also possible that there's a crack in his headboard, but he _really _doesn't want to think about that right now.

"You _do_ feel," he'd said to Spock—other, calmer Spock, the one without mommy issues and a propensity for emotional outbursts that more often than not involved some combination of fucking Jim and kicking the everliving hell out of him.

It's not that he's complaining—let's face it, Jim's a bit of a masochist. It's just that he was an _idiot_ then.

He's an even bigger idiot now, because it's not even like they're friends. Things aren't easy with them like the other Spock said they'd be. And it's driving Jim crazy that they can't stand each other, but they can't stand not being around each other. They can glare across the table at each other during meetings, but Jim can't imagine Spock not being there. And when he _isn't_? God help whoever has to deal with Jim.

Spock always shows up again, of course. They can't exactly avoid each other, circumstances being what they are. It's like they've got this fucking radar for each other; they always know where the other one is.

And when they're in the same _room_? Forget sparks, it's fucking _fireworks_. It's glorious, even if they do end up killing each other someday.

But you know, Jim might be able to live with that. Because killing each other like this is better than all of the ways they could have died already.


	23. And I Would Drive on to the End With You

**"Demolition Lovers"--My Chemical Romance**

**Gods do I love this song. In honor of its awesomeness, have some dark (angsty?) AU. Also, I am /so so so sorry/ for the extended absence and lack of updates. I /swear/ I still have love for this fic. I just have a billion things going on, what with exams and a to-write list that is /far/ longer than it should be. But fear not! I shall finish the last couple of chapters when I have the time. **

* * *

"Spock."

Your eyes open. Disoriented, you roll over, hitting your head on the door handle. You realize you are lying in the back of a stolen flitter, curled up in a position that has a 70.49 percent chance of giving you sore muscles for the remainder of the day. You rub all traces of sleep from your eyes, staring at the smooth black of the driver's seat.

"Spock."

His hand is reaching. He stretches over the chair, seeking your shoulder, your arm, something solid. He would claim it was to make sure you were awake; you know he is seeking comfort.

You do not blame him. The war took everyone by surprise.

The adjustment from the greatest command team in Starfleet to fugitives in the desert of Vulcan II is not an easy one. It is not one even Captain James Tiberius Kirk could have foreseen. You can see the way the loss of the _Enterprise_ weighs on his shoulders, deepens the lines on his face. You dare not mention this. He will make a comment about higher gravity, at best, and at worst he will disappear again. Last time, he was gone for three days.

Survival is much easier with another person. The translation, Uhura would have said, is that you missed him. Perhaps you did. Suppression of emotion seems superfluous, almost a luxury, now. It is not something you can afford.

You miss Uhura. She would have understood all the things you cannot say, even now.

Instead, you say, "What is it, Jim?" You feel uncomfortable using his first name. It has always seemed too intimate, too laced with emotion, to use often. But to call him captain now, when he has lost his ship, his crew, when they are on the run and starved for contact, for news of, as Jim put it, "what the everliving fuck is going on out there." No. You cannot.

He would appreciate your discretion, you are sure, were he able to think of what it is you are not saying.

"This planet doesn't by any chance have some weird, fucked-up weather system, does it?"

You are curious by nature, and his words are intriguing. "If you would clari—"

He cuts you off, impatience and apprehension lacing his voice. You do not like his tone. It is so unlike the James Kirk you know. "Spock. It isn't supposed to snow here."

You jerk upright, press your face to the window. The flakes are faint, barely there. More rain than snow. But still.

"Is it an attack of some sort?"

The authoritative captain is not gone from his voice. It is… oddly calming, though highly out of place in this situation. It might have broken your heart, were you inclined to allow it to do so.

More than anything else, you hate that the only answer you have to give him is "I do not know."

His mouth sets in a thin line, his shoulders squared. Once, this determination had made him beautiful and strong. Now, he seems tired. You reach for him, uncertain what you will do when you have him, but you find it does not matter. He backs away, digs around for the starter chip.

You slide into the front seat effortlessly, ignoring the thought worming into the back of your brain that wonders how long you have been doing this. The answering thought, as always, is that it does not matter. You cannot allow yourself to break. You must stand with you captain. It is your duty.

Your mother—and oh, you do still miss her—would perhaps call it a labor of love.

You will worry about your emotional responses later. Later, when you have stopped running from attacks that may or may not exist. When you can sit on the coarse sand and meditate. Then.

You see the energy trails following the photon torpedoes before you see the buildings they disintegrate. You know this routine well. Jim looks at you, places his hand over yours. Your fingers twist into his touch like electricity to water.

"Are you ready?"

He asks this every time, and every time you can hear the edge of tension in his voice. As if one day you will say _no_. As if you would ever leave him.

You want to tell him how stupid he is, but instead you only say "Yes."

You will spend exactly 27.93 minutes in this city. You will pick up supplies, food, news from the front. You will dodge the explosions, the crumbling buildings. You will hide your faces and visit smoky, poorly lit bars to avoid detection. And you will remain together. Because you know, and perhaps he does, too, that you can not survive apart.

You look up, and your eyes meet Jim's icy blues, and you wish things had happened differently. You wish you could take him into your arms and _fix_ it all.

You cannot, and it pains you. All you can give him is shadows and ghosts, and you hold on tight and hope it is enough.


	24. And the Touch of Your Lips

**"Electric Twist"-A Fine Frenzy**

**This chapter is a prequel to "Silent Lucidity," set eight years before, give or take. I have the whole AU plotted out, but I don't know if it's ever actually going to go anywhere. And I'm still working on the beginning of my "Demolition Lovers" follow-up. So. Does anyone really care about this 'verse? **

* * *

It's just the four of them, the way it is most Friday nights. The apartment isn't big, and it's drafty (San Francisco has nothing on Riverside, but it's cold, for California). But, considering Gaila's an escaped slave and Spock and T'Pring are runaways, it could be worse. And then there's Jim, who's a Starfleet brat, but at least he's got his mom to go home to and a brother who lives just outside the city.

Anyway, it's a typical Friday night, and Jim's hanging out at their place because Mom's off on some diplomatic mission and Sam's got work, so it's not like anyone's missing him. Gaila and T'Pring are in the kitchenette, cooking something (place is too cheap for even a replicator). And Spock is curled up on their sofa with one of Jim's datapads, intense brown eyes concentrating hard on whatever he's reading. His legs have gotten long; he looks awkward trying to fit himself on the tiny sofa. It's kind of cute, actually.

Jim sprawls out sort-of on top of him, pulling the datapad out of his hands. Spock looks up, surprised and vaguely annoyed. To which Jim grins.

"Come on, Spock, you're no fun. Come out tonight, will you?"

Spock raises an eyebrow, reaching for his datapad, which Jim keeps just slightly out of reach. "I fail to see why you desire my company, Jim, as you consistently point out my lack of 'fun' qualities."

"You just need to learn to be a little wilder, is all," Jim insists.

"I second that," Gaila calls from the kitchenette, red curls bouncing as she reaches over T'Pring to grab a measuring cup. T'Pring doesn't say anything, but Jim can detect amusement—and probably agreement—in the way her eyebrow tilts.

"See?" Jim says, glancing back at Spock, who gives him an annoyed look. "Come on, it'll be great."

"I doubt that very much, Jim."

But see, the thing is, Spock is incapable of saying no to Jim, even under normal circumstances. But the magic of an autumn Friday night in the city is too much. An x factor, one that Spock cannot resist. There is a vague humanness about it that he has no way of explaining. It is strange, but it clings, calls him.

And so he finds himself at a club, where the music is loud in his ears and in his bones.

Jim heads straight for the bar. T'Pring and Gaila disappear into the crowd around the dance floor, and after a few minutes' futile searching he gives up and joins Jim, who is clutching a shot of something that smells like tequila.

By the time Jim's taken his third shot, he's pleasantly buzzed and T'Pring and Gaila have shown up again. T'Pring orders chocolate martinis for herself and Spock, while Gaila flirts with a Cardassian at the other end of the bar.

Jim, so casual with touch normally, is even more tactile drunk, leaning farther into Spock's personal space than he ever has.

To be fair, he doesn't exactly remember kissing Spock that night, even after T'Pring punches him in the face.

"Hurt him and I end you," she growls, and Jim's fucking confused and also hungover.

And no, he doesn't really remember it, it's just… Sometimes, when he gets close to Spock, he feels… This sort of jolt. And it's electric and it's weird, but he likes it.

He is also never, ever getting drunk around Spock again.


	25. A Little LoveRidden Cassette Manifesto

**LAST CHAPTER! Wow. Technically, this isn't based on a song. Just a final story to wrap up the fic. But, for the sake of continuity, we'll say it comes from Team Gina's song "Mixtape," which is where the the title for the fic comes from. **

**And of course, we had to end with fluffy, schmoopy happiness. And crack. **

* * *

"So let me get this straight. You're… Making Spock a mix tape."

Jim nods, blushing just slightly. "Yeah, pretty much."

Bones runs a hand through his hair, sighing in exasperation. "First of all, I'm not even going to _ask_ how you got a CD, because it was probably illegal considering they stopped producing them _centuries ago_. And I _really_ don't want to be held responsible when Starfleet court martials you." It's hyperbole, of course, and anyway it wasn't _completely _illegal…

"And second," Bones continues, "A _mixtape_, Jim? What is this, middle school?"

Jim tosses the nearest solid object he can find—a datapad, brilliant—at Bones's head. "Oh shut up."

"Witty," Bones says, looking through the track list. When he laughs, it's loud and derisive. Jim starts searching for something else to hit him with.

"_Me and Bobby McGee_?"

"Shut up, it's a classic."

Bones waves off his comment, continuing to scroll down the list. "Whatever," he murmurs. "It's your fucking _mother_ is what it is."

And Jim's got nothing to say to that, really, because Winona has a deep and abiding love for Janis Joplin that is only matched by that she harbors for Joan Jett. She likes old music. A lot. It's probably Dad's fault, actually. And—Well, it isn't like Jim can say much about that. He doesn't push when it comes to Dad stuff.

"Yeah, well… He's going to fucking love it, okay?"

He sounds a bit like he's trying to convince himself.

* * *

Jim gives Spock the CD in the officer's mess the next day. Uhura's holding court with her girlfriends and her—well, her _girlfriend_—across the room, and Scotty's totally absorbed in a discussion about _something_ with Chekov, so nobody's really paying attention. Except for Bones, but he's figured out that his presence is the equivalent to white noise when it comes to them being demonstrative in public. Which, to be fair, doesn't happen all that often. But still. It's the principle of the thing, is all.

And the thing—which is going to be important in a second—is this. They have this… This kind of system when it comes to what they call each other. They're strictly professional—even though sometimes the way Jim says _Mr. Spock_ can be downright _pornographic_—but off-duty it basically follows a system. An easily-remembered rule necessary to know for anyone who wants to deal with them on a daily basis without going insane. One simple rule.

And that rule is this: if it's Standard, it's fine; if it's Vulcan, it's some heavy, heavy shit.

For example: "Sweetheart" isn't a big deal. Jim's always been an affectionate person; endearments are just another way of showing it. "Sweetheart" is something Jim calls Spock without even thinking about it—which has caused some _very_ interesting (and hilarious) situations, but that's neither here nor there.

But _Vulcan_?

Bones doesn't hear _t'hy'la_ very often. It's the only one he's got a vague idea what it means, which is fine by him. Besides, it isn't something they break out very often. But when they _do_? Well, one of them is probably dying. Again.

So, okay, there was a point. And it is this.

"_Ashayam_," Spock breathes, fingers tracing the sides of the disk. And Bones has _no fucking idea_ what _that _means, but it's got Jim's face lighting up like a fuckin' Christmas tree, so it must be good.

And then they just look at each other for a good, solid two minutes, and it's kind of creepy. Like they're having a whole conversation that nobody else is in on. Like they're in their own little world.

Then, "Captain, a word?" Jim nods, eyes big like a fucking _puppy_, and gets up from the table. "If you would excuse us, Doctor."

Bones will _never_ fucking understand them.

* * *

**Yes, I've decided that all the songs used in this fic are on that CD. And yes, I am also a hopeless romantic. Shut up, it's the last chapter. I'm allowed to get sentimental. **

**P.S. To everyone who read/reviewed: I LOVE YOU. **


End file.
